Mood Swings
by Glory1863
Summary: Archer knew Andorians were volatile, but he is about to find out why Shran is particularly so now.


This story came about as the result of a discussion with a friend about a website I refer to as "The Andorian Rules" (not that I follow them, mind you; Shran doesn't strike me as the most conventional of Andorians, and I have my own ideas about Andoria and its people or I wouldn't be here). The four-part Andorian marriage gives me the same headache temporal mechanics gives her, and then there is this one other little thing . . .

Let's just say if those who actually own _Star Trek: Enterprise_ can give you the Andorian arc, I can give you the pregnant Andorian arc of which this is actually the middle story, but the one I started with, largely as a joke and supposedly as a one-shot deal, but things do seem to get out of hand!

Mood Swings

Captain Jonathan Archer sat in his office aboard the _Enterprise_ and absently tapped his fingers on his desk in a mixture of confusion and anger as he reviewed the service jacket of his new first officer. T'Pol had left the ship some time ago after being appointed Vulcan ambassador to Earth in replacement of the aging, and reportedly ill, Soval. Archer had been most definitely surprised, but also privately both pleased and somewhat anxious, when Admiral Gardner had named her successor. Apparently, arrangements long in the making had finally been concluded for Commander Thy'lek Shran to serve aboard _Enterprise_ on detached duty from the Andorian Imperial Guard. Archer would be the first to admit that Shran was a competent, resourceful, physically courageous and honorable officer, but with his inborn Andorian volatility, he could also be quite a handful at times - and this was definitely one of those times.

Things had started off surprisingly well in Archer's estimation. Shran had seemed to go out of his way to both behave in a militarily correct manner and to get to know the crew and the ship, but over the last few weeks that had all changed. On looking back, Archer would have to say that it all started when Shran had refused to join in the celebration of an Andorian holiday that had been added to the ship's calendar, but had chosen instead, with no explanation given, to remain isolated in his quarters. His fellow officers had been confused and more than a little hurt by his reaction. They understood that the transition from Imperial Guard to Starfleet and from ship's captain to subordinate officer had to be much more difficult for him than he had been willing to show. They had wanted to offer him support and to indicate that they held him in esteem. They wanted him to feel at home. They could not fathom his rejection. Things had gone rapidly downhill from there. Shran had more aggressively challenged Archer's orders, had treated fellow officers with open disrespect and had been late for duty shifts. Today, things had finally totally spiraled out of control. In Engineering, in the presence of his staff, Shran had decked Commander Tucker over - what exactly? Trip had politely but firmly refused to say, had only mumbled something about an accident, a misunderstanding, that no real harm was done, and had all but begged Archer to just let the matter drop. Archer found this unacceptable. He was determined to get to the bottom of whatever was going on with his first officer.

At precisely 1000 hours the door chime sounded in Archer's office. The comlink announced, "Commander Shran reporting as ordered." Archer bid him enter. Shran walked stiffly to the front of Archer's desk and stood rigidly at attention. Archer noted that he seemed to be under great stress, his coloration a paler blue than he had ever seen before, his antennae already beginning to droop. Good, he thought, I finally have your attention.

"Mr. Shran," Archer began his formal request for an explanation, "In regard to the lamentable incident in engineering earlier this morning, I have heard Commander Tucker's side of the story. Now I would like to hear yours."

Shran struggled to keep his voice as carefully neutral as T'Pol's had ever been. "I have no comment, sir."

With his patience wearing exceedingly thin, Archer tried again. "Mr. Shran, I have been looking over your service jacket. It seems that in addition to assault, you could face charges of insubordination, conduct unbecoming an officer and dereliction of duty. Would you care to comment on that?"

In the same toneless voice that Archer was beginning to find maddening, Shran replied, "No sir, I have no comment."

In exasperation, Archer finally exploded, "Shran, I get that Andorians are volatile. A passionate people I believe you once said, but I need to know: Just what the hell is your problem?"

If Archer had not been no angry, he would have noticed that Shran had taken on the look of a man who has suddenly come to realize that the light at the end of the tunnel is the triple oscillating headlight configuration of an onrushing locomotive and that there is no way he can get off the tracks. Shran knew now that he would have to explain, could no longer avoid it, and with great difficulty began, "Captain, you know that Jhamel and I were bonded as life mates just before I reported for duty on _Enterprise_." Archer, remembering the astonishingly beautiful and gentle, but incredibly brave young Aenar woman who had helped foil a Romulan plot to sow discord in the region, merely nodded his head. Shran continued, "According to Andorian tradition, the marriage rites are not complete until a child is conceived." Archer looked confused, his impatience mounting again. He was not sure how this was answering his question. "Jhamel and I are well and truly married," Shran concluded.

Archer finally understood that Shran was telling him that Jhamel was with child. "Congratulations to you and your lady, Shran," Archer said coldly, "But how is that relevant?"

Shran was clearly miserable. His antennae had progressively drooped throughout the interview. He found it exceedingly hard to look at Archer, but if Archer had tried, he would have seen a desperate plea for understanding in the Andorian's large brown eyes. Archer, however, did not try, and Shran, feeling deeply mortified, realized he would indeed have to explicitly explain to this outworlder, this "pinkskin", something that was not even a major topic of discussion between Andorian males on Andoria. He struggled to find the appropriate words. "Andorian - biology - is different from human biology; in fact, substantially so. Jhamel conceived and will bear our daughter, but for a period of time the embryo requires a higher temperature - as well as some other things - to survive and grow normally. The usual body temperature of an Andorian male is some degrees higher than that of the female and the male body can also provide those - other things."

It slowly dawned on Archer that the fantastic idea that had grown in the back of his mind while listening to Shran's haltingly provided explanation might, in fact, be the truth. With an incredulous look on his face, Archer said, "Let me get this straight, Shran. Are you telling me that **you** are the one who is pregnant?"

Shran, who had flushed a deep shade of blue even to the tips of his antennae, answered in a near whisper, "Yes, Captain, that is precisely what I am telling you."

Archer knew he should not smile, much less laugh, and made a valiant attempt not to do so, but the pictures in his mind led him to utterly fail.

Shran was just as valiantly struggling to keep his emotions in check but would ultimately utterly fail as well. He forced himself to look at Archer. "Captain, I have never done this before. The descriptions in the medical texts do not begin to adequately convey the reality of the experience." This, at least, Archer could understand. Dr. Phlox's admonition that "this won't hurt a bit, Captain" had never been particularly accurate either. Shran continued, his frustration and desperation growing, "The sight and smell of Andorian food - much less Earth food - makes me physically ill; I sleep for 14 hours of your standard Earth day and still awake exhausted; my back aches continually; I have blinding headaches; I can no longer partake of Andorian ale and, Archer, your ship is just too damn hot! Gods above! I cannot image how Jhamel has tolerated - or will tolerate - this. We both wanted a large family - Andorians and Aenar both love children - but I cannot bear the thought of going through this again much less asking Jhamel to do so."

Archer stared in amazement at his first officer but said nothing. Shran's erratic behavior finally all made sense, but along with the understanding came another emotion - guilt.

Exhausted and humiliated, Shran knew that he had finally gone too far. He was facing charges, time in the brig and return to Andoria in disgrace. He could not bring himself to think about what the Imperial Guard would do to him, but even worse, he had made a total fool of himself in front of his "pinkskin" captain. Yet, a part of him was just too emotionally drained to care. He desperately wanted to go home and to sleep for hours on end, preferably with Jhamel and her beautiful cool serenity beside him.

Bringing himself back to a posture of rigid attention and in a weary, defeated voice, Shran said, "I beg your pardon, Captain. I acknowledge that I was not given permission to speak freely. I heartily regret the unfortunate incident in Engineering earlier this morning and will personally apologize for my unseemly behavior to Commander Tucker in the presence of his staff. I offer you my sincere apologies for anything I may have said that could be construed as showing a lack of respect for you personally or for your rank. I will personally make this apology to you again before anyone you so direct. As you direct, I will personally apologize to any officer for my unprofessional conduct toward them. I offer you my sincere apologies for my lapses in duty and give you my word as an officer of the Imperial Guard that they will not be repeated."

Archer, too, seemed suddenly subdued and sad. "Apologies accepted, Commander," he said quietly. I'm sure you will continue to perform your duties flawlessly as you have in the past. Go down to sickbay and have a word with Trip. You may find that is all he requires. While you are there, see Phlox in his professional capacity. Perhaps he can recommend better ways for you to deal with your - condition." For the fist time that morning there was genuine compassion in Archer's eyes. "This matter is now closed."

Shran nodded toward Archer and acknowledged the orders, "By your command." He waited to be dismissed.

Archer rarely called Shran by his given name, but for some reason he could not explain felt compelled to do so now. "Thy'lek, I'm sorry that I didn't address my concerns about your behavior with you sooner and that you didn't feel comfortable in coming to me about your - issues. It should never have gone this far, and you should never have been forced to speak of such deeply personal matters under such duress. That it did go this far and that you were put in such an untenable position is entirely my fault, none of yours, and I hope you will accept my sincere apologies. I give you my word that I will not speak of your condition to anyone. Who you tell - if anyone at all (save for Phlox, of course) - and the circumstances of that telling are entirely up to you." Archer sighed deeply. "Dismissed."

Shran seemed startled by Archer's words and demeanor and unsure what to make of them. Finally, he softly replied, "Apology accepted, Captain. I have always found I could rely upon your discretion."

As he neared the door, Archer spoke again. "There is one more thing, Thy'lek. On behalf of the _Enterprise_ crew and myself, congratulations to you and Jhamel on your marriage and impending parenthood." This time, the captain smiled and the words were said with warmth. He was rewarded with the ghost of a smile from his first officer.

"I shall convey your felicitations to Jhamel, Captain. She will - that is - we both appreciate your thoughtfulness." Shran's smile broadened as the door closed behind him.


End file.
